


guardami amore

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: M/M, not realising your bf is dead, unaware necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: eric just wants dylan to look at him.
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Eric Harris
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	guardami amore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/gifts).



> im really buzzing off writing about people as they die / describing corpses maybe i should get another therapist
> 
> this is for wocket cuz ily babe xx

“look at me.”

“please, look at me.”

“dylan, just look at me, please.”

dylan didn’t look at him, he just kept staring up at the ceiling. his mouth downturned in a small frown. eric rested his head on the back of his hand, staring at dylan’s pale cheek. why wouldn’t dylan just look at him? eric had whispered more than enough apologies into his straw-like hair. his hair wasn’t it’s usual soft, shimmery self, but more… antiseptic. like dylan had been washing his hair in hand sanitizer since the last time eric had ran his hands through it.

eric was going to ask dylan why his hair felt so strange, but fuck, he couldn’t even get him to look at him. “please, dylan. i’m sorry for anything and everything i’ve done, just look at me,” eric whispered, his fingers reaching out to grasp at dylan’s bony shoulder, shaking it slightly. dylan didn’t respond, but felt so cold. eric itched to clamber on top of him and wrap himself around dylan, to take his thin fingers in his own hands. to complete their two halves.

but dylan wouldn’t look at him. eric racked his brains, desperately trying to think of anything he’d done wrong that he hadn’t apologised for. eric was almost certain he apologised for nearly running over dylan’s foot, but felt the need to whisper a gentle “sorry, liebling” into his shoulder anyway.

the clock on the wall taunted eric, reminding him of how long it’d been since dylan had looked at him. those big, reproachful blue-grey eyes. stormy, eric liked to call them. a true glimpse into what dylan was like inside. he’d always scoff and call eric a hopeless gaylord, but eric had watched him examine his eyes in the mirror, seemingly pleased with the description. 

eric watched dylan’s profile as the minutes ticked by, his unchanging face causing eric to feel more and more nauseous. why couldn’t dylan just forgive and forget? look at eric and show him a smile, just a little one. 

dylan was cold, that was why, that had to be why. eric stood up, looking around him for a blanket. “when you’re warm, you’ll look at me,” eric whispered, more to himself than dylan. fuck! no blankets. “here.” eric mumbled, taking off his shirt and draping it over dylan’s bony shoulders. weird, dylan hated not being completely covered by a blanket, he was always self conscious about how sunken his shoulder blades had become in his wide frame. but he’d had the blanket just up to above his chest, his hands resting on top of it.

eric pursed his lips when dylan didn’t react, quickly grabbing at one of his hands before dylan could move-. 

dylan was ice cold. 

eric couldn’t stop the gasp leaving him, taking dylan’s hand between his two. “jesus babe, you been out in the snow?” eric whispered, looking up at dylan’s face, expecting to see at least a small smile.

instead, he saw dylan’s eyes staring straight up. his mouth still tightly shut. a gauze over his left temple and swaddled bandages under his head. “dyl… you didn’t tell me you’d hurt yourself again,” eric mumbled, walking over to dylan’s head. dylan’s eyes didn’t follow him, nor did they blink. he just simply stared straight up.

“dylan, you’re scaring me,” eric finally admitted, his fingers gently resting on dylan’s cold forehead. he always looked so young when he pulled his hair back. less tired, more jovial. like he was letting eric in.

why was he pushing eric out now? what had eric done so wrong to be granted this treatment?

“mr harris, your hour is up.”

eric looked up from dylan’s unchanging face. “my hour?” he whispered, as if he was afraid to disturb dylan further.

“to spend with mr klebold’s body. your lawyer requested it in exchange for the key to your closet?” 

eric swallowed. mr klebold’s body? had tom died? oh lord, how was he going to break it to dylan? he wished the man would’ve been more sensitive breaking the news, dylan was lying right-

eric blinked. and suddenly saw.

dylan’s head was lolling to one side, his face blue. his eyes were unfocused, and had lost the sparkle that made eric be able to stare at them for hours on end. the bandages under his head were saturated with blood, and there was the clear t cut from typical autopsies. bruises, halfway through the process of fading, were now etched permanently on dylan’s long, pale throat. eric had put those bruises there.

dylan wasn’t ignoring eric.

dylan was dead.

the realisation hit eric harder than a gunshot blast. he stumbled back, his mouth suddenly filled with bile. the man stared at him closely, and eric tried to gain his composure. 

“can i say goodbye?” eric whispered, not trusting his voice to speak any louder. the man nodded, and eric crouched next to dylan’s ear, his lips almost touching the cold skin. 

“farewell, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> song: guardami amore (farewell, love) by francesco renga


End file.
